


Don't Come Knocking

by anysin



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Do Not Archive, Elias makes an appearance, Facials, First Time, M/M, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Non-Con, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2019-11-09 09:17:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17999090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anysin/pseuds/anysin
Summary: After refusing to come back to work on time, Tim gets something in the mail that changes things between him and Martin forever.





	Don't Come Knocking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [luluinterstellar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luluinterstellar/gifts).



> Thanks to my anonymous beta for looking this over! All the mistakes that remain are mine.

It starts because  of  Tim's own fuck-up.

It’s been a couple of days  since Tim returned to Britain from his latest attempt to escape the institute. He feels a lot better already, now that he is back in the country, but there is still this ill feeling in his body that refuses to leave; he knows it won't go away until he has stepped through the doors of the institute. But he stays away, stubbornly planning to remain at home until he simply has no other choice but to go back. Just like abroad, his body will have to fail him before he gives up.

Of course it doesn't work out like that.

When the statement arrives in the mail, all Tim can do is stare at it for a while after he has pulled it out of the envelope. Elias knows damn well that Tim has no tape recorder at home; the sheer, naked  _ arsiness _ of the move makes Tim speechless with rage. He doesn't even think about it; he digs up his matches and lights the thing up in flames, tossing it into the bin as he watches it burn to ashes.

He breathes in the scent of the smoke rising from the little fire, finding it cozy. Later, he pinpoints this as the moment where it all went wrong.

*

The next day, the ill feeling is gone. It's suspicious, of course, but Tim is stupid enough to feel hopeful; maybe Elias has decided to get rid of him after all, or maybe the God he is supposed to be serving has finally given up on him. He doesn't realize the ill feeling has been replaced by something else until he goes out, running into the old lady next door who he doesn't really notice most of the time.

Now, it's like a switch has been turned in his head. Her mind, locked to him before, is suddenly all open to him: as she walks briskly past him, he can feel her anxiety about whether or not she'll make it to the library early enough today, and before he knows it, he's hit with her thoughts about how nice her favorite librarian's arse looks like in his jeans. He freezes to the spot, only able to stand there and stare as the woman walks over to the lift and disappears inside.

It takes him a while until he dares to move.

Outside, it's even worse. Suddenly, his brain is full of the thoughts of strangers and worse yet, their desires: cuddles by the fireplace, whips and black leather, things he doesn't even dare to think about too long. Tim was supposed to go to the supermarket, but he can barely take two steps on the street before he has to turn back, returning to his flat. He has to tolerate the hopelessly lonely thoughts of a middle-aged man from the second floor before he makes it to the safety of his flat, where everything is nice and silent.

Tim stands there in his doorway, shaking as he stares over to the bin, where the ashes of the burnt statement still lie.

"Elias," he says. It was burning the statement that poisoned him, he knows it. He is so furious he actually feels cold, his hands shaking as they curl up into fists.

His sickness has become something much worse.

*

Tim tries to go out on the second day, only for the same thing to happen once he makes it to the street. His brain is overwhelmed by thoughts of sex, and he has to go home to make it all quiet down in his head. Still, he is determined not to go to the institute; he's going to order a takeaway and wait there until the statement stops affecting him. It's going to be hard, but he'll manage. He will rather die than let Elias smoke him out.

He manages to stay inside his flat for two whole days, only hastily meeting a delivery boy who can't stop thinking about his co-worker and how nicely she wears her uniform. On the evening of the third day, everything gets ruined by a knock on the door.

"Tim? Tim, it's me, Martin! Open up!"

Tim groans in frustration, but he gets up from the sofa and goes to open the door. Martin startles at the sight of him, but that doesn't stop him from coming in, looking around as he ventures into Tim's flat.

"It's so messy in here!" Martin's mouth snaps shut the moment those words are out, a blush creeping on his cheeks. "I'm sorry, I-"

"Why are you here?" Martin has showered today, Tim can smell it; Martin wears deodorant but no cologne, the scent of his skin fresh. But he is already starting to sweat, wringing his hands as he watches Tim nervously, afraid.

Martin is afraid of Tim and Tim hasn't even given him a reason to be afraid yet. It's awful that things have got to this point between them, and Tim wants to feel bad about it. But even as Martin's fearful thoughts keep bouncing back and forth between both of their minds, Tim is busy feeling something entirely different from guilt.

Arousal.

He has never really noticed Martin this way before. Noticed his softness, the way he just folds when you raise your voice at him, how desperate he is to please you. It's appealing in a way Tim never thought it would be, and the more he listens to Martin's thoughts about how he needs to help Tim no matter how scared he is, the more alluring he becomes. Tim can't stop thinking of how nice it would be to crowd Martin up against the wall, take his wrists into his hands.

"Tim, are you listening to me?"

Tim blinks, then shakes his head. What is he doing, this is insane! He needs to get Martin out of his apartment right now, before his sickness convinces him to do something he'll regret! Tim steels his guts, closing the distance between Martin and himself so he can grab Martin by the arm.

"Ow! Tim!"

"You need to get out of here, right now!"

"Tim, what the hell is going on?"

Tim starts to walk Martin towards the door, or at least he tries; Martin, however, keeps struggling against him, digging his heels into the floor and refusing to move. Tim doesn't know what to do, not wanting to hurt Martin but most of all, not really wanting to move away from Martin's scent and the warmth emitting from his body. From Martin's thoughts which are now focused on how tall and fit Tim is, how easily he can manhandle him, how intense the fire in his eyes is.

"I'm not going anywhere until we sort this out!" Martin shouts, even though Tim can smell from him that he wants to run.

And damn it, Tim can't resist anymore.

He lets Martin go, who immediately starts rambling to him about work and how he's been worrying everyone, even as he rubs his arm. Tim ignores him, walking over to his doorway instead so he can hook the safety chain in its place, making sure the door is properly closed.

"Tim?"

Martin sounds upset, but he is still standing there, making no move towards the door or anywhere else for that matter. It's not until Tim turns around to face him when Martin gets pale, when he gets  _ it _ .

"Tim," he whispers, eyes wide. "What are you doing?"

Tim thinks about apologizing. Instead, he says nothing as he starts to advance on Martin, who finally takes a step backwards.

*

"Get on the bed," Tim says in the bedroom.

Martin obeys without a question, not even getting his shoes off. It doesn't matter to Tim; his bed is already dirty, and what is about to happen is even dirtier. Tim climbs up on the bed, remaining at the end as he reaches out for Martin's feet.

"Tim," Martin says.

Tim grabs Martin by the ankle, holding onto it as he peels Martin's shoe off his foot. He does the same with Martin's sock, then repeats the actions with Martin's other foot. He takes a moment to stroke Martin's ankles, feeling up his bones and his soft, soft skin; he slips his hands underneath Martin's trouser legs to stroke his calves as well, running his fingertips along their curves, through the coarse hair covering them.

"Look, Tim," Martin says, his voice a little firmer now. His mouth is slightly open, his lips a little wet. "I've never-"

Tim gets up on his knees on the bed, which makes Martin go silent. He looks down at Martin, hungrily picking up thoughts from Martin's mind. Martin is still scared, but he is also helplessly curious, wondering what Tim is going to do to him. He is very aware of Tim, of his height and his broad shoulders, the strength in his hands; the memories of Tim dragging him around and backing him up against the wall are still fresh in his mind, making him shiver.

Those thoughts make Tim shiver too. He thinks about his options for a moment, eyeing Martin's body up and down while Martin goes red beneath his gaze, tilting his face away.

"Do you want to take your clothes off or should I?"

Tim sounds husky, already breathing heavily. Martin hesitates, worrying on his plump lower lip with his teeth for a while before he sits up on the bed, grabbing the hem of his sweater. He pulls it off; he is wearing a black undershirt underneath, which he takes off as well, letting Tim see his smooth, supple skin and softly rounded flesh. Martin hesitates again before taking his hands to the front of his trousers, thumbing the button open.

Martin sighs deeply before starting to push his trousers down, exposing his arse and thighs. Tim can barely stay still as he watches Martin pull his long legs out of the trouser legs, wanting to reach out and caress everything he sees. Martin hooks his thumbs beneath the sides of his boxers and then just doesn't move for a while, breathing deeply in and out before starting to ease them down.

He takes it slow, to the point Tim gets impatient and moves forward, grasping the boxers from the waistband.

"H-hey!"

Tim yanks the boxers down, first to Martin's knees, then to his ankles. He lifts Martin's legs out of the boxer legs himself, tossing the boxers and the trousers off the bed; Martin is fully nude now, trying to crouch and hide himself. Tim climbs upon him, grabbing his arms so he can spread them out, pinning them against the mattress.

"Please," Martin says.

Despite hardly being a small man, Martin looks small now, trembling underneath Tim. In his mind, Martin is overwhelmed: he can't believe that this is happening, that he's actually going to get fucked and that it's Tim who is doing this to him.

Guilt twists in Tim's gut; he doesn't want this either, not really, not like this. But it's going to happen regardless of their wants, and this way Tim can at least make sure that Martin doesn't get hurt.

"I'm sorry," he says, leaning down to rest his forehead against Martin's. He stays there for a while, just breathing and listening to Martin breathe. He doesn't even realize it when he's moving, when he's sliding his mouth over Martin's to kiss him.

Martin tastes like peppermint gum, which feels right; of course Martin tastes like wholesome things, even though Tim knows that nobody who works for the institution is truly wholesome at heart. He is soft too, his lips yielding easily beneath Tim's as Tim strokes his tongue into his mouth, tasting him thoroughly. He draws Martin's tongue inside his own mouth and sucks on it hard, his hands squeezing tighter around Martin's arms.

Beneath him, Martin lets out a high, wavering moan.

Tim pulls away from the kiss, staring down at Martin who is looking up at him, eyes wide and face flushed pink. He doesn't move when Tim releases his arms so he can start taking his own clothes off, simply waiting and watching.

*

"Martin," Tim says.

He can hear Martin swallow as Martin reaches between Tim’s thighs, grasping his cock with a shaky hand. Martin takes a deep breath before he tightens his hold, squeezing Tim's shaft firmly as he starts to stroke it, bringing his soft, lush mouth down to the head.

"Careful," Tim says, remembering what Martin said earlier; he has never done this before. Martin glances up at him before parting his lips, taking care to cover his teeth with them before sliding his mouth over the head of Tim’s cock. He takes it in carefully, squeezing his cheeks tentatively around it; when Tim catches onto Martin’s thoughts, they are entirely focused on Tim’s cock, on its salty taste, on its scent. Tim reaches out with his hand, intending to simply stroke Martin’s hair, but instead he finds himself pushing his fingers into it, pressing Martin’s head a little further down on his cock.

Martin keeps looking up at him as he sucks Tim, wanting to know how he's doing.  Tim makes sure to tell him that he's doing great, that he is great, that Tim is so, so sorry about all of this. After some time, Martin closes his eyes and focuses on Tim's cock alone, head bouncing up and down on Tim's length as he squeezes at the base of Tim's cock, his palm resting warmly against Tim's balls.

It feels amazing and Tim can't stop babbling, can't stop gripping Martin's hair as Martin sucks him, as he sees Martin's face go redder and redder. His cock jerks hard when he sees that Martin is getting aroused too, his cock poking out stiff from between his legs as he sways on his knees on the bed, his face buried between Tim's thighs while his plush, round arse points up towards the ceiling. By now, Martin's mind has filled with pleasant buzz, occasionally disturbed by flickers of fear and shame.

Tim aches to fuck him.

*

"Is it going to hurt?"

Martin is lying on his stomach on the bed, clutching onto a pillow while his arse is propped up by another one, with Tim kneeling behind him. Tim is pouring lube onto his fingers, rubbing them together; Martin's question makes him pause, clarity sinking into his brain for one fleeting moment.

What the fuck is he doing?

He tosses the tube aside, reaching out to stroke his palm over Martin's arse. He grabs one full, firm cheek, giving it a squeeze before pulling it apart from the other one, exposing the dusky pink hole between them. He takes a lube-covered finger to the hole, tracing the rim for a while before starting to press the finger in, feeling as Martin tenses beneath him.

"It won't if you relax," he says.

Martin is quiet for a moment, his mind fluttering so loud with doubt it almost makes Tim dizzy. Finally, he sighs, taking a deep breath as he tries to relax his body. He isn't entirely successful, so Tim is gentle when he eases one finger inside Martin, biting his lip when he feels Martin’s body close around it, tight and warm. He starts to move his finger around against the firm walls of flesh, reaching inside for Martin’s prostate.

"Touch yourself," he tells Martin, pushing the tip of the second finger against Martin's hole; Martin groans on the bed, but he obliges, pushing his hand beneath his body in order to play with his cock; the sight is almost delicious enough to distract Tim, but he keeps working on Martin with his fingers, sliding the second one all the way inside him before starting to thrust them both slowly in and out of him. He finally reaches Martin's prostate, rubbing it hard while Martin's body arches and he moans out loud.

"You like that, huh?" Tim can't help but smile a little, pressing his fingers harder into Martin, stroking his prostate head-on. "It'll feel even better when it's my cock in there, Martin. It will drive you crazy, I promise."

Pleasure and anticipation rush through Martin's mind over his words, making Tim feel hot all over. He fucks Martin with his fingers, opening and warming him up before pulling his fingers out for good, leaving Martin's hole to wink around nothing. He rubs the rest of the lube on his fingers on the outside of Martin's hole before straddling him, guiding the head of his own needy cock against Martin.

Martin whimpers beneath him, continuing to stroke himself as he presses his forehead tight against the pillow, breathing harshly through his nostrils.

Tim tries not to love it so much, but Martin feels so damn good around his cock when he sinks in, so tight it's almost unbearable. Tim moans, resting one hand on Martin's hip while he reaches out for Martin's hair with another one, grasping it tight. He pulls gently, making Martin bend his head back as Tim thrusts forward, pushing deeper into Martin; Martin moans, his hand going still between his legs as he tries to adjust to Tim's length, his thoughts as full of Tim's cock as his body is. His arse clenches around Tim's cock in a fast, nervous rhythm, tremors running through him as he's taken.

First. He is Martin's first, first to see him nude, see him lost in pleasure and pain both, first to enter his body. Tim's cock twitches hard over the realization as he starts to move, rocking his hips against Martin's arse, holding tight onto his hair as he leans over Martin. He presses his nose into Martin’s neck, inhaling deeply; Martin is sweatier now, from fear and arousal both, but he still smells amazing to Tim, and he can’t resist latching down on Martin’s neck with his mouth, sucking it hard.

Martin moans, his hand starting to move between his legs again, his fist bouncing up and down on his cock as he strokes himself, soft little cries escaping his lips. Tim removes his mouth from Martin's neck, giving the freshly bruised spot a light, tender kiss before resting their faces together, rubbing his cheek against Martin’s soft, plump one.

"Martin, God, Martin-"

He fucks him harder and faster, the whole bed now shaking along with his thrusts. He turns his face towards Martin, kissing him on his cheek, licking it as Martin cries out softly, his hips now moving along with Tim's, rocking back against him as his moans get louder and louder. Tim lets go of Martin's hair so he can grasp him around his throat instead, holding onto it lightly as his thrusts get hard enough for his balls to slap against Martin's arse.

"Jesus, Martin-!"

Martin comes first, slamming himself back against Tim's cock and squeezing tight around it, a long wail escaping his throat as he spurts his semen on Tim's bed, his fist moving up and down along his length even after he has come. Tim is now crying out softly himself, dragging his teeth along Martin's jawline as his balls draw up tight, his hips slamming against Martin's buttocks for one final time as he starts to come, spilling his seed deep inside Martin's arse.

He falls slack on top of Martin who has gone limp himself, lying still beneath Tim as they breathe heavily together.

It's over.

*

"Tim," Martin whispers between heavy pants, alarm spreading through his mind.

Of course it's not fucking over.

Tim's cock had gone soft for a moment, but now it's stirring again, stiffening within Martin's come-soaked hole. Tim thinks about it for a moment, what the fuck he is supposed to do before he pulls out with a rough yank, grabbing Martin from his waist so he can shift him over to his side.

"Tim!"

He lifts Martin's other leg up so he can push himself between his thighs, holding Martin open as he takes his cock to Martin's hole again. This time, he slides in easily, working his way in to the hilt with few swift thrusts, with Martin uttering a breathy cry over each one.

"Tim, my God!"

Martin is getting hard again too - he's in this too, Tim realizes, his condition has infected Martin too - so Tim reaches out for him, grasping his cock tight and stroking it as as he rolls his hips against Martin's, making Martin gasp as he rubs against his prostate.

"Tim," Martin whimpers, and then he says nothing at all.

*

Tim comes again, Martin doesn't. They keep going, lost in heat.

*

After two more rounds in the bed, they decide to try to cool it down, taking it to the showers.

The moment they enter the stall, Tim is pinning Martin against the wall and Martin lifts his leg to wrap it around Tim's hips, pulling him eagerly closer. His mind is full of red-hot fog, full of images of Tim's face, flushed and distorted with desire, full of Tim's hard, twitching cock and Martin's own endless need.

"Tim," Martin whispers. He doesn't seem to be able to stop saying Tim's name.

Tim loves it.

*

After the failed shower, they return to Tim's messy bed. Martin lies down on his back, his hands on Tim's shoulders and legs raised up while Tim climbs on top of him, grabbing Martin by the backs of his knees so he can lift Martin's legs up on his shoulders, rubbing himself against Martin's hole which is still white and wet from spunk.

Martin’s nervousness is gone by now; all the does is moan as Tim sinks inside him again, sliding his arms around Tim’s neck and holding onto him tight. He pulls Tim down to him, pressing their cheeks together as he tries to thrust back against Tim, urging him to start moving.

“Tim, please.” Martin is almost sobbing rather than talking, his breathing rapid and hot against Tim’s ear. “I need it so much, please.”

Tim needs it too. He cups the back of Martin’s head with one hand while he wraps his other arm around Martin’s torso, resting his weight down on him as he thrusts, making Martin whimper beneath him. He repeats the motion, wanting to hear that sound again and again; soon, he is moving in a fast rhythm, and Martin can’t stop moaning.

“-Tim, oh God, Tim-”

The fingers entwining into his hair surprise Tim, but he lets himself be moved when Martin lifts his head up, pulling him back down so they can kiss, all mashed lips and tongues that can't stop touching each other. Martin bucks up against Tim, sucking Tim's tongue into his mouth as the kiss goes on.

“Martin,” Tim wants to say, but his mouth and mind are both full of Martin, there is no room for him anymore; all he can do is moan against Martin’s lips as they kiss, as he fucks Martin even harder.

Though non-stop aroused, Martin hasn’t come since his first orgasm during this whole thing; Tim decides it’s time to fix that. He reaches between their bodies, grasping Martin’s stiff, leaking cock, pumping it hard as he pulls away from the kiss and presses his face into Martin’s neck, hips moving increasingly faster.

“Tim-!”

He rubs his thumb over the tip of Martin’s cock and Martin cries out sharply, coming into his hand. Tim groans, pulling out of Martin as he feels his own climax coming, pushing Martin’s other leg off his shoulder while he keeps holding onto the other one, rising up so he is looming over Martin. He grabs his cock, starting to stroke himself to completion as he aims his dick at Martin's face.

He comes all over Martin’s face and chest, coating him in his spunk. Martin surprises him; instead of looking wounded or even insulted, he opens his mouth, accepting the drops of come raining down on him, even licking them up as they land on his parted lips and exposed tongue. Martin closes his eyes, lapping at his lips until he has caught every last drop that has fallen into his reach, until he falls limp and spent on the bed.

Panting heavily, Tim lets Martin's other leg go, shifting to the side so he can collapse next to Martin. He wants to sink into Martin's mind, into that bliss that he can see on his face, feel their thoughts meld together-

*

It takes Tim few minutes to realize that he can't.

Martin gets up slowly, moving away from Tim while Tim lies there stiff and unmoving, frozen from his realization. He expects Martin to leave the bed, get his clothes off the floor and head straight for the door, but instead he sits down at the edge of Tim’s bed, grabbing Tim's sheet so he can wipe his chest and face clean.

“Tim,” he says. “What the hell just happened?”

Tim almost doesn’t want to say anything. But of course, he has to confess to everything; he owes that to Martin. He says:

“Elias sent me a statement in the mail. I burned it and it did something to me. I kept hearing people’s thoughts, especially about sex, and I had to lock myself here. I thought it would be safe to let you in. I was wrong.”

Now that he thinks about it, he’s not sure if he even really thought Martin would be safe. He’s not sure if it was his own choice in the end; maybe it was the thing driving him insane that made the decision for him, because it needed an outlet. Martin says nothing, continuing to sit there with his back turned to Tim.

Tim wonders if Martin hates him now.

“Are you okay now?” Martin asks him in a quiet voice. “Is it gone?”

“Yes.” Tim can’t hear what’s going on in Martin’s mind anymore; that’s the sure sign. “Martin, I’m so sorry you got caught up in all this. This should have been between me and Elias.”

Martin doesn’t say anything to that, remaining right where he is. After some time, he sighs, turning towards Tim.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he says, his voice softer than what Tim deserves. “I, um, don’t know how to feel about this yet, but I don’t blame you for this. It wasn’t you.”

Tim doesn’t know what to say. This is way more than what he deserves; he should be rejecting the whole notion, tell Martin he’s wrong. But what he feels is intense, incredible gratitude and relief; he sits up himself, wanting to reach out for Martin’s hand so he can squeeze it in a thank you, to touch his face.

He goes still when he hears his mobile ring.

Martin stiffens too, his eyes going wide. They let the phone ring until it goes quiet, and only then does Martin get off the bed, picking his undershirt and boxers up from the floor. He puts them hastily on before heading to the living room, with naked Tim trailing after him.

Tim’s mobile is on the living room table. Martin picks it up, glancing down at the screen. “You got voicemail,” he says, handing the phone over to Tim.

Teeth grinding together, Tim takes the phone.

Soon, Elias’s voice fills his ear.

“Tim, I assume you and Martin have dealt with Mr. Alistair Devon’s statement regarding the strange pollination in his garden. I hope you are both fit to come back to work tomorrow. I will see you there.”

If there is a lesson in this whole mess, it's probably not to do rash things.

As Martin ducks out of the way, Tim throws his phone against the wall.


End file.
